


The White Magician

by Jdragon122



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Impala ships it, M/M, Magician Castiel, Prince Dean, dean understands wyvern, impala is a wyvern
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jdragon122/pseuds/Jdragon122
Summary: Based on the Day 16 InktoberartbysaawekPrompt: An AU where Dean is a Lord Wyvern aka a “small dragon rider” and his mission is to take the famous White Magician Castiel to his Father the King to heal the Queen. Bonus point if Castiel is in awe of Impala the Wyvern and her sexy rider.





	The White Magician

**Author's Note:**

> For saawek :3 whose inktober art inspired a lovely exchange of crack posts between me and magicknightriderjellyfish - I had to make it a ficlet…

The Castle of Winchester was gray and cold, the ancient stones of the keep dusted with the first snows of winter. The grounds beyond were unusually quiet, only the singing birds breaking through the clouded sky. None outside the castle dared speak too loud, they wished to show respect on this day. The rumors had been confirmed and all had cause to worry. The Queen was sick.

  
She lay in her bed with her husband and sons alongside her. Her cheeks were pale and eyes losing their shine. The fever had set in quickly overnight, and all feared the worst. They stayed with her as long as they could.

  
Of course the kingdom still needed to be ruled, the kingdom still needed their King. John Winchester returned to his throne, solemn but determined — he had a plan.

  
“Dean Winchester.”

  
The King’s eldest son, strong, tall, and green-eyed, approached his father’s throne. “Yes, father?” Dean’s grief was well hidden, but his father could see the toll it took on his son, the redness of his eyes and the furrow of his brow.

  
“Do not give up hope, my son,” John placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. The prince said nothing. “I have a task for you,” the King lowered his voice to a whisper. Dean sensed his urgency and listened. “I want you to take Impala — fly to the Lone Spire and call for the White Magician.”

  
Dean looked at his father skeptically, “But — you’ve always told me you don’t believe in magic.”

  
John frowned, “I don’t… but it is our only hope. We can only ask for a miracle.”  
Dean swallowed and nodded, “I’ll go. Impala is fast, she’ll bring us back in time.”

  
John smiled sadly and patted Dean’s shoulder, “Go. Our healers will give you as much time as we can.”

  
Dean turned and ran to the Flying Grounds without hesitation, cloak bellowing behind him as he wove through the castle’s many halls. He gathered his things quickly, strapping them to Impala’s saddle with the black wyvern helping drag his belongings to her side. When everything was set, Dean swung his leg over the saddle, gripping the pommel and fitting his feet into the stirrups. He took a long breath, bending forward and patting Impala’s neck, “Come on girl, let’s fly.”

  
With a growl and a snap of wings, the wyvern and her rider soared upward. They rushed past the grounds and the villages until the castle was only a speck on the horizon. They had a long way to go and little time to spare. Dean sent a quick prayer to anyone who would listen, “Let us not be too long, let us not be too late.”

 

_________________

 

The Lone Spire came into view just over the Forests of Enkeli. Dean’s thighs had long ago begun to quiver from exertion, and even Impala’s mighty wings had started to slow their pace. “Come on, baby,” Dean encouraged, “Just a little bit farther.” She snorted and spread her wings to catch the high winds before snapping her tail down for a dive. Dean flattened himself to the saddle as she shot towards the tall, marble tower, a blue glow emanating from its upper chamber. They landed with a thud in front of the large wooden doors, carved with stories and legends of centuries past. But Dean had little interest in them now.

  
He removed his riding helm and tucked it under his arm as he approached the great entrance, towering above him. Unperturbed he knocked loudly. The door opened as he gave the last rap on the wood.

  
Dean strode inside, ready to bow and introduce himself — but was surprised to find that no one was there. He stepped forward, looking around the entrance. “Hello?!” he called. His voice echoed throughout the long corridor, dying as the door shut behind him.

  
Dean felt Impala standing beside him, the hall big enough to accommodate her size. He took a moment to look around. The hall was surprisingly empty. Nothing but shelves and occasional tables crowded the walls. Above the shelves hung huge portraits, one for each of the past Magicians no doubt — old men sitting in a musty tower, living out their lives with the company of books.

  
“Hello!!” Dean tried again. He frowned when again there was no answer. Curious, he continued onward, looking at the numerous portraits as he made his way to the large spiral staircase at the end of the hall. None of the portraits caught his interest — until he came to the very last.

  
What surprised him was how young the wizard in the portrait was. He looked to be only Dean’s age, the traditional white robes wrapping his lean figure and making his dark hair and tan skin even more apparent. But what Dean couldn’t stop staring at were his eyes. They were bright blue, piercing gaze seeing through the canvas and into the prince. It was a bit unnerving so Dean took the time to examine the rest of the painting. Delicate hands wrapped around a decorative book and pink lips were parted to give the wizard a graceful, almost angelic appearance.

  
Dean was nearly knocked over when Impala nudged him with her snout. “Hey!” He glared at her as she tilted her head at him. Her wings ruffled as she gave a series of growls and snorts.  
Dean felt a blush on his cheeks as his mouth fell open, “I am not drooling over the portrait!” Impala growled doubtfully.

  
“Whatever,” Dean crossed his arms and turned his back on the wyvern, “Besides this guy has probably been dead over a hundred years.” At that Impala walked over to him and gave a toothy chuckle.  
“What?” Dean leaned away as the wyvern moved closer. “Stop,” he pushed her head away as she bumped his chest. “Hey, we have a goal to accomplish remember?” Impala snorted and sat back on her haunches, staring up at the hundred feet of stairs.

  
“Hellooo!! Hey! Is anyone here!!?” Dean called again impatiently. He shook his head and looked around, “Freaking wizards.”

  
Impala brushed her tail across the floor as she continued to stare up to the top of the stairs, where the blue glow emanated. She narrowed her eyes, rising to her feet and walking in a small circle as she observed the tall spiral.

  
“What?” Dean frowned as he followed her gaze. “I’m not walking up all those stairs.” Impala snorted, then spread her wings. “Wow! Hey, what are you doing — Impala wait!”

  
A rush of air pushed the wyvern up through the center of the stairs, wide enough for her to flap her wings.  
“What are you doing?!” Dean yelled at her. The prince’s answer was another thud as she landed at the top. There was a roar as Impala scratched at a small door leading into the highest chamber.  
Dean could barely see her from here, her tail dangling over the stair railing. But he could hear the door open and the loud screech that followed it. Impala’s wings spread again as she jumped off the balcony and flew down towards her rider. Dean confusion turned to alarm as he realized that the wyvern had a man struggling in her claws.

  
“IMPALA! NO, PUT HIM DOWN!” Impala slowed her descent, hovering above him with a reptilian grin. She met his eyes for a moment before loosening her grip. “Impalaaa,” Dean said in warning. The wyvern only chuckled before letting go. The man fell, Dean’s eyes going wide as the poor guy slammed right into him, dragging them both to the floor. Dean was winded, lying on his back with a groan. It took him a moment to realize the weight on his chest was the man, panting and breathing heavily.

  
“Why is there a dragon in my tower!!?”

  
Dean blinked as the man’s face came into view, blue eyes and pink lips dangerously close to his. They locked eyes for a moment before it clicked.

  
“Y-You’re the Magician.”

  
The man’s brow pinched in a frustrated frown, “Yes, I’m the Magician! Why is everyone so surprised by that?”

  
“I just thought you’d be someone uh… someone older.” The man rolled his eyes and tried to pull himself off of Dean. He found that their legs were tangled and the Magician’s robes had caught on some of Dean’s armor. Dean felt the heat rush to his face as Dean helped push the wizard off him. The Magician straightened up, flattening his robes and attempting to tame his hair. Dean stared way longer than was appropriate but he couldn’t help it.

  
When the Magician had brushed off all the dirt he returned Dean’s gaze with a tilt of his head, “Do you plan to lay on the floor all day?”

  
Dean stammered as he rose to his feet, “Oh — uh… I-I’m so sorry. Impala meant no harm, I swear. Forgive me…”

  
“That’s your dragon!?” The wizard asked in alarm.

  
“Yes, well actually a wyvern — I don’t know what got into her.”

  
Impala snorted from behind him and he spun around to meet her, “What the hell were you thinking?! Were you trying to kill both of us?!”

  
The wyvern chuckled again and let out a sequence of huffs and growls. Dean’s face reddened even more, “That’s NOT a good reason for you to do that!!”

  
Dean quickly turned back to face the shaken magician, who was also now red in the face. “Um, okay — let’s just forget about that. So uh, hello I’m Dean Winchester, Prince of Campbell. I-I’ve come to ask a favor.”

  
The Magician stared at him, then curiously back at Impala. “No one’s come to the Spire in years…”

  
Dean tried to hide his shock but failed badly, “Oh! Well then I guess this was an exciting surprise.” He tried to give a friendly smile. Impala growled from behind him again. “Shut your face,” he muttered over his shoulder. “I’m here with serious business,” he straightened himself and cleared his throat.

  
The Magician shook himself and nodded, “O-of course. Well then I guess I should introduce myself as well. I am Castiel, youngest and current White Magician — as the title goes.”

  
“Youngest,” Dean smiled and rubbed a hand on his thigh nervously, “Quite an achievement huh?”

  
Castiel gave the smallest hint of a smile, “Yes, it took me years of studying and hard work.”

  
Dean smiled again and kicked himself mentally, he had a mission right now. He took a deep breath and focused himself.

  
“Well nice to meet you Castiel. I don’t want to waste your time, so I’ll get to the point… the Queen is dying, we’ve tried everything but nothing helped. You’re our last option.”

  
Castiel’s face immediately hardened, his lips dipping in a frown, “The Queen… your mother.”

  
Dean swallowed and nodded, “Yes.”

  
Castiel’s eyes were sad as he studied Dean’s face, “I thought your father made it very clear his opinion on magic.”

  
Dean laughed dryly, “Yeah well, he’s praying for a miracle. He’s willing to give you a shot. Will you help?” He looked to the Magician with hopeful eyes, this was the last chance they had.

  
“Of course,” Castiel replied, an assuring smile warming his features and lifting Dean’s spirit. “I’ll do all that I can to help your mother.”

  
Dean let out a sigh of relief and let his eyes close for a moment. “Okay,” he lifted his head and grinned at Castiel, “Then we should get going. It’s a long way to Campbell — and we don’t have much time.” Dean made his way back to Impala, ignoring her content purring.

  
“I have a faster way,” Castiel said as Dean grabbed ahold of the saddle. Dean blinked and turned to him.

  
“Faster than a wyvern? Sorry bud but she’s the fastest flyer around.”

  
“Not flying,” Castiel smirked, “Teleporting.”

  
“Teleporting,” Dean repeated, “Never tried that before.”

  
“I assure you it will save us time, much more than your wyvern. No offense,” he nodded towards Impala. She huffed and nodded back.

  
“Great,” Dean exclaimed, “Then let’s do it.”

  
Castiel reached a hand into the pocket of his robes, bringing forth a blue gem and holding it out in front of him. “Come closer,” he beckoned. Once Dean and Impala were on either side of him, he lifted the crystal, raising it above his head and began muttering in a language Dean couldn’t understand. The prince watched with amazement as the Magician’s eyes began to glow, the blue growing brighter and brighter until it was the same blue he had seen at the top of the tower.

 

He continued speaking in the strange tongue until a circle appeared around them. Light spewed from the ethereal lines, spread higher and higher until it enclosed them in a translucent dome. Dean couldn’t help but stare in wonder— his father was completely wrong — there was definitely magic; amazing and powerful magic.

  
Castiel smirked at him as he caught his awed gaze. “You might want to hold on,” he said before releasing his hold on the crystal. It shattered on the floor, pieces flying in all directions. Dean, heeding his warning, clutched the Magician’s arm as his stomach lurched. There was a loud crack, and suddenly the world was spinning.

  
A flash of light bleached the walls, flooding the room with a wind that died as soon as it began. And then they were gone, with only the blue shards left on the cold marble floor.


End file.
